The Apprentice Of A Stubborn Genius
by Mika Yamichi
Summary: Evelyne is a genius. A cocky, arrogant, sarcastic genius. Remind you of anyone? Funny thing is, she's barely twelve years old and is already having problems in her life. Nightmares, a sleeping disorder, failing grades, a "snarky" attitude are all part of her life. Till she meets a stubborn genius just like herself. Here's the problem. Evelyne thought Sanctuary was just a TV show.


Please R+R

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Sanctuary. But the yumilicious Nikola Tesla I wouldn't mind owning. Sadly, I don't. But I do own Evelyne (who is as equally as awesome as Nik Tes here).

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Ever since I could remember, I had always had nightmares. Not the kind where innocent, benign children had at young ages. Not where a monster under my bed had finally crawled out from under with my heart thumping widely. And defiantly not the ones where a petite six year old was frightened over the fact that her older siblings could be stealing his or her's secret stash of candy.

It was the type of nightmares where...well...I didn't know honestly. Let me explain.

Ever since I could remember, I also couldn't remember what they (my oh-so-wonderful nightmares) were about. But I think that was what scared me the most. At the verge of waking up, I would tell myself to remember the nightmare, but for some reasons I never did. The feeling of waking up scared shit-lessly, with millions of questions pounding against my skull would leave me baffled, but so, so scared.

When I was barely 7 years old I would wake up crying without knowing why. My parents would come storming in afraid of intruders or worrying over the fact I might have been hurt. After taking one look at me they would automatically try to comfort me with sweet, loving words. But all I heard were small whimpers and yawns from my two siblings, Roseamarie and Aaron. Aaron, only four years old at the time, didn't know what was going on but was smart enough not to whine or cry about the fact he was woken up. My sister, Rose, just turned thirteen and was looking a little annoyed at the fact she rushed all the way over here for nothing. I _was _crying. Honestly I wouldn't have called that _nothing. _ Yes, yes, it was a sight to behold. But don't get to use to it.

But as more nightmares occurred, I would wake up more panic-stricken every time, and my parents would come in my room less and lesser. It was kind of like a routine now, but my parents tried to put me into some type of therapy or see some psychiatrist. At first my family thought I had nightmare disorder, but I actually had something called sleep terror disorder.

As I got older I learned more of what both meant. Nightmare disorder was more of when a patient had nightmares due to stress, fear, anxiety but woke up with the dream still vividly in their heads. They automatically noticed their surroundings and didn't react as much as someone with sleep terror disorder. Like me, someone with sleep terror disorder would wake up without any memory of the previous episode and would awaken with screams or crying.

Though I didn't really know much of what I said was correct or not; since no one bothered to fill me in. But for some reason I always had a keen eye for things and my curious ears picked up on a lot of things. I saw a lot of small details no one else saw.

Meticulous, I guess I could be called. But to me finding a needle in a haystack would take only a couple seconds. But I couldn't really say that about the rest of my subjects in school...

I was _finally _eleven, so close to reaching twelve. But becoming older wasn't as a appealing but finally being in middle school was; it was my dream come true. Well until I started it.(Haha, get the joke?)

Okay, I'll admit the first day was decent, but I would not have gone as far as to say the rest of the week was. In fact it was quite hectic, if I do say so myself.

First of all, my grades hadn't even had a chance to live as they dropped below the average grade of the class I took each period.

Second, the kids there at my school had pretty high standards. Mainly about clothing, grades (sigh), social lives, gossiping, what was cool or not. Also being or almost becoming teenagers their speech was not limited. Words of inappropriate things and bad language was heard in every class. I was starting to wonder how long I would last. After all it was quite _annoying,_ one could say. But that wasn't my main problem.

I swear all my teachers hated me! Come on there was no reason to hate me. Well, my so called friends always said I had a big mouth and was too sarcastic for my age. It didn't help with my "foul language", a quote from my bitchy teacher. ( I refuse to call her anything else, so don't even try to make me)

I was still a likeable person in a way. Come on, my name even had a graceful tune to it.

" Evelyne!" See graceful, is it not? I am part French so the name sounded more like, Av-a-len. My name has an accent in it, changing the sound a bit plus the alphabet in French was different than the English one. Though not by much.

"Evelyne!" Finally I snapped out of my inner thoughts and stared at my teacher with a "What?" kinda expression. He stared back at me with a frown, but I noticed the amused glint in his eyes and his raised eyebrow.

Mr. Weltch was my 2nd period science teacher and was the only teacher in the school who called me by my first name. Luckily, he could pronounce it correctly and was the only teacher who I _actually_ could deal with. In return he, oddly, was able to deal with my "really annoying and snarky attitude"(yes another quote from _that_ teacher) which I still deny that I have such a thing.

I felt all eyes on me as if seeing what I would do next. My friends in the back just giggled as if sharing a joke. " Evelyne, if you were paying attention you would have answered the question I just asked or at least tried. Please, for your own benefit try to pay attention. Your grades in every class would greatly improve if you did. You are intelligent, but don't know how to use it to your ability or apply it to your schoolwork."

Few of my classmates smirked, and my friends looked shocked that I'd let Weltch get away with saying all that about me without shoving a Number 2 pencil down his throat. I was surprised too. I rather preferred a mechanical pencil instead of an old fashioned one.

Hey, I never did say I liked Mr. Weltch or he I; I just said I could deal with him and he could deal with me. But as much as I wanted to, any snarky comments that would have left my lips, for once, stayed on them. I was too stubborn to admit it, but it was true.

I was smart, intelligent and quite a genius if I say so myself, but my attitude and small interests in anything/everything didn't go well with the teachers. It seemed my teachers graded on manners instead of actual work and intelligence. And the last time I checked that wasn't what school was about. But to my happiness, one class actually provided me with interesting info. That just happened to be science. So if I didn't want to get kicked out of this class I was going to have to act nicer. (Which I already am by the way.)

"Sorry, Mr. Weltch. Can you please re-ask the question that you wanted me to answer?" I replied innocently, feeling curiosity swell up in me.

He nodded his head in approval and spoke in a gruff voice, "Can you please tell us what you will be sharing with us today?" Noticing my confused look he added, "From the project on a figure important in science history."

I grinned widely, "Oh, yes! Please give me a second." My feet began moving on its own, heading to the front of the classroom.

I had my hands wrapped around a large tri-fold poster board and set it carefully on top of the presentation table. Mr. Weltch held a clipboard in his hand writing down my name in sloppy cursive. Clicking his black ballpoint pen, he signaled me to begin.

Placing any remaining props on the table I started speaking in a loud voice making direct eye contact with each and every last person in the room.

" For the science project on a famous figure that was, and still is an important contribution to our science history, I picked Nikola Tesla. He was an inventor born on July 10th..."

The day went by uneventfully which I found quite surprisingly. My parents would be happy and would have an "I told you so" attitude when I told them how good the day was. Maybe they were right with the fact that I just needed to adjust to middle school.

Sighing loudly, the last bell of the day rang and everyone automatically stuffed papers in their backpack as if they had no time to spare. I didn't blame them; I've seen how the bus drivers act when the students are late. Not funny, not at all.

I myself was in a rush but had already put all my things away into its correct containment. With four minutes to spare, I sped walked out of the classroom door saying a quick "Au revoir, Madam. A lundi." before turning left towards my locker in front of Room 432, also known as Mr. Has-A-Bleep-Up-His-Bleep's classroom.

Spinning the dial carefully but fastly, I yanked the locker open retrieving my coat and Ancient Civilization books for studying. I closed the locker door pushing it tightly to the metal container to make sure it stayed shut. Honestly, I wanted to get away as fast as I could before _he _came.

Turning my whole body towards the right, the teacher no one ever wanted to see appeared out of the corner with files in his hands. Today my luck went down the drain. Today my luck flushed down the toilet. Today my luck fell of the cliff. Basically my luck committed suicide, and I was screwed.

I scurried towards the opposite direction and decided to go around the school to the pathway on the sand field. Technically we weren't allowed to go around the other side of the school because it was "off-limits", and no one was ever there to "protect" students from harm. But I didn't see any real reason we couldn't go that way.

My feet carried me off away from Mr. Bernard until I felt a pair of eyes landed on me. I came to a sudden halt, suddenly tuning into a deep voice.

" Excuse me Ms. Mercy. Where do you think you're going?" Facing towards him, I could see his crunched up eyebrows and the knot forming on his mouth. " First of all aren't the buses and parking lot in the opposite direction you are heading towards. Second, have you forgotten that you have an appointment with some gum and a scrapper?"

I had an urge to scream. Literally scream bloody murder. How could I have forgotten; today I had detention and needed to scrape gum off from under the desks.

"Shit."

"Please refrain from using bad language."

I was tempted to bolt out of the hallway right this second. But that would lead to me skipping out on an oh-so-wonderful opportunity to clean which would lead to a call to my parents which would lead to me being left at my grandpa's house for the four day weekend instead at a resort.

Was going to a resort in Mexico and doing nothing but sleep, eat, play, swim and relax worth the trouble over needing to crawl under a couple desks on the dirty floor (which probably wasn't cleaned in days), holding a scrapper that's been touched by snotty, no washing hands people and removing gross a hundred year old sticky spitty gum (and whatever else was under these desks)? Was it really worth it? Bloody hell, no.

I twirled my fingers awkwardly until I decided on what to do. I gave off my creepiest smile, "Well see ya." Not wasting a single second, I bolted out of that spot and sprinted towards the emergency door. I pushed against the door quickly turning toward the small alleyway letting the dark looming trees consume me.

My legs carried me off a couple more feet till I looked back surprised not to see Mr. Bernard chasing after me with a bloody pencil. Yes, I like to include bloody in most things I say. Please bloody deal with it.

I began to slow down, my face red from running and frightfulness of getting caught. I was slightly proud at my courage of literally running away from a teacher. The tight tension in my stomach of being scolded and brought down by someone always was there whenever I was going to do something bad.

Maybe it was guilt for running away and being rude, but a rush of adrenaline rushed through me. The taste of victory was something no one could replace. That rush of doing something naughty and not getting in trouble was the best.

As if snapping from my thoughts I looked at my reflection from a murky puddle. I almost stared at myself with disgust at the look on my face. When did I start thinking like this? Wasn't I only eleven years old?

It's been like this for almost a year now. It began in small random moments. Then in big, daily times. As if I was transforming and it was progressing very slowly... I felt like the nightmares were slowly driving me insane, but I instantly dismissed this thought.

A water droplet fell from the sky, plopping the liquid onto my nose. Erasing all thoughts, I smiled and started into a giggling fit. Skipping rhythmically I started to sing.

"_It's raining...it's falling...an old man is snoring..."_

Momentarily I stopped, a look of obliviousness written all over my face. Looking around as if I forgot something, I noticed my backpack was missing. An image of my backpack placed in the hall in front of Mr. Bernard's classroom coursed through my mind.

"Oh bloody Hell."


End file.
